"That's not a good excuse," Denmark scolds you, shoving the thermometer under your tongue.

"That's not a good excuse," you mimic him perfectly. Denmark, however, doesn't seem to notice your behavior and continues on.

"Really, [Name], you get sick when you go outside into the cold without a coat..."

"But Russia doesn't,"

"Russia's just…" he shudders and continues on hurriedly, "Anyway, did you want some soup?"

"Soup is cool,"

"Alright, I'll make some…Don't you move from that spot,"

You purposely sit up and lay on your side, showing him that you won't do as he says. That seems to fly over his head as he exits the room. Once you're sure he's far enough away, you throw the thermometer as hard as you can: it shatters against the wall. You climb out of bed and run to a window. Outside is a winter wonderland: snow has covered the world in white. So you unlock the window and open it wide, allowing the frigid air to rush in and suck out every last bit of warmth.

With a manic laugh, you climb back into bed and throw the covers over your head as snow literally pours through the window and onto the floor.

"Okay, I made tomato soup—WHAT THE-"

"It's cold," you say from under the covers. You hear Denmark hurriedly set down what he was carrying onto the night table, and slam the window shut.

"Why did you do that!?" his tone isn't too unfriendly, just a little stern. Not enough to frighten you.

"Well…"

"You're ill, [Name]. You need to stay out of the cold! Why would you even do that!?" he hammers you with questions while tugging the blankets off of you.

A groan escapes your lips as you reach out for the covers. "You sound like my mother,"

Denmark shakes his head, disapprovingly. He sets the tray on your lap. The soup shifts in the bowl.

"This looks good! Thank you," you giggle.

He nods, asking, "Where's the thermometer?"

You point to the shattered remains against the wall. Denmark looks at it, then pretends he sees nothing. "We'll look for it later," he announces, resting his buns on the stool beside your bed.

"Okay. So can you tell me a story?" you ask, spooning up the soup.

He looks at you with a distained face. "You want me to tell you a story?"

"Yup,""Ugh…'Once upon a time'-"

"No! You told me that one before..."

"But I didn't even-"

"When you start the story like that, it's always the same one!"

"Okay. What do you want to hear then?" His eye twitches violently. To his surprise, however, you say nothing. Denmark waits patiently while patting his leg rhythmically. You look out the window, forgetting all about the story. The snow has stopped but the trees bow in the wind. With a shudder, you finish the last of your soup.

Denmark stands from the stool abruptly, "You should get some rest. I'll come back later, okay?"

You frown and protest childishly, "But I'm not sleepy!"

"That doesn't matter. You'll be stuck in bed all of your life if you don't get healthy again,"

"I want you to stay with me,"

"Why? I've got to go check on Norway, too. You aren't the only person under the weather..."

"I don't want to be alone."

"Don't be a wimp,"

"But I am one. So will you stay?"

"Eh…"

"Please? I'll behave,"

"Alright, alright," he sits down again and swings his feet idly, eyes darting around the room.

Carefully, you set the dishes on the night table and fidget with the covers. A silence has come over you two and you decide to break it. You start by asking an obvious question: "How are things?"

"Fine, I guess,"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah…I'm sure,"

"Okay..." You furrow your eyebrows and try to come up with something else to say before Denny changes his mind and decides to leave.

He beats you to it. "So…have you seen any good movies lately?"

"Umm…the 'Avengers' was a good movie,"

"Yeah, it was pretty awesome. Got a favorite character? Mine is Loki..."

"Loki's cool,"

"Yeah,"

Another awkward silence.

You sneeze, forgetting to cover yourself.

"You sneezed on me," Denmark tells you without much emotion.

"Really? Is the snot green or clear?"'

He actually looks and replies, "Green,"

"Good. That means I'm getting out all of the sick..."

"So you admit to being sick?"

"I guess. No need to harp about it, geez!"

He rolls his eyes. "You need to get some sleep, okay?"

"Noh!"

"You do," he stands once more.

"Don't go!" You throw the covers off of yourself and jump onto his back, catching him by surprise. Denny stumbles around the room, trying to regain his balance. He trips over his own feet. You shriek as you fall off of his back and face first onto the carpeted floor. Denmark crashes down onto the bed (lucky him) only to rebound and fall to his arse onto the floor.

You sit up, pulling your face out of the carpet, laughing. Denmark holds his head. "You're so childish! What was the point in that?"

"I'm sorry," you pout. "Please don't leave."

"Why shouldn't I? You won't even listen to me,"

"I'm sorry,"

"No you aren't," he crosses his arms.

"Really, I am!"

"I'll visit you later," he repeats with a sigh and gets to his feet and heads for the door.

Hot tears boil up and begin to run down your face, blinding you.

"Why are you crying, [Name]?" he turns back and comes to you, kneeling.

"I don't want you to go, Denmark. I want you to stay…" you want to say more: you want to tell him why he has to stay, but the words refuse to come out. They lock up your tongue and roll around in your head.

"Fine,"

"Thank you…"

"Yeah,"

"Denny?"

"Hm?"

"I want to tell you something,"

"What is it?"

"I…I…I've got the moves like Jagger,"

"That's good to hear," he agrees, thinking that the medicine he put in your soup is making you drowsy.

"No, that wasn't it," you say.

"Out with it then,"

You reach out and grab his face, then pull him close to you. "I have a fever, feel..." You press his forehead against your own. Denmark's face turns red, but he doesn't resist."Wow, you've got a really bad fever,"

"Yeah, it's bad,"

Denmark moves his head a little, and his nose brushes against yours. "Did you want me to make you some tea?"

"No,"

He pulls away a bit. "You don't want anything?"

You can't help but stare at his soft, soft, soft, soft, soft, soft lips. "No," you repeat absently, lost in his beautiful, cheerful blue eyes.

Is it sad that I could totally envision myself throwing open windows and smashing random thermometers? ANYWHO, awesome story! Made me giggle, ((particularly when you said Denny dear Sat his buns down on the stool...)) And then the end made me get all fuzzy inside. SO BASICALLY AWESOME SAUCE.